Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the dull ache in Amelia's chest. Her brother, Thomas, had called. He needed the money. He'd said it with a forced cheerfulness, a fake lilt that grated on her nerves. The antique clock, a grandfather clock her grandmother had adored, was to go. It sat in the hall, its pendulum still swinging, a rhythmic reminder of passing time and broken promises. Amelia slumped onto the worn velvet of the armchair, the fabric cold against her cheek. She felt a profound emptiness, a heavy weight that settled in her stomach.